As the summary says, this story is my version of the aftermath of Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne. I've never played World of Warcraft, so my story is only going to include characters from Warcraft III ("Reign of Chaos" and "The Frozen Throne").

Azeroth has been a battlefield for centuries. There was the war that took place a long time ago between the Night Elves and the Burning Legion, in which the Night Elves reigned victorious. Nearly ten thousand years later, a new war has begun between the Humans and the Orcs. The tides of the war have changed when the Undead arrive. Prince Arthas, the son of the King Terenas II, swore to bring peace to his land, but after taking up the cursed blade, Frostmourne, he turns on his people and aided the Undead, handing over the land to the Scourge. His betrayal led to the return of Archimonde, the leader of the Burning Legion. Thanks to Medivh the Last Guardian, the Humans, Orcs, and Night Elves formed a reluctant alliance and defeated Archimonde in Kalimdor.

Although Medivh's actions have promised peace to Azeroth, the realm remains a field of war. Arthas has now become the new Lich King, having bonded with the soul of Ner'zhul by donning his armor and his helmet. In the fallen lands of Lordaeron, Sylvanas Windrunner, a high elf ranger who was turned into an undead being by Arthas, has taken control of the lands from Kel'Thuzad, with assistance from a dreadlord named Varimathras, and forms a new cult she calls the Forsaken.

Other powerful entities threaten the possibility of peace on Azeroth. The Burning Legion may be extinct, but dark times remain in the magical realm. The remaining hope for peace in the lands lies in the hands of a young sorceress hailing from Dalaran, an Orc warchief raised by humans, and the now mortal Night Elves. Will they unite once more to put an end to the corruption and bloodshed?

Theramore Isle

Miles off the coast of Kalimdor is an island called Theramore Isle. Inhabiting the island are the survivors from Lordaeron. Jaina Proudmoore, leader of the survivors, attempts her best to provide a suitable home not just for her warriors but also for the villagers rescued from the exodus. After the death of her father, Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, which occurred one year ago, Jaina has taken his army under her command. As time flies by, the humans are beginning to see Theramore as more than just a refuge.

Yet, Jaina is not feeling as optimistic and light-hearted as her people.

In the small palace at the very center of the island, Jaina stands on her bedroom balcony, watching over her people. They were living their lives like normal people, as if they were still in Lordaeron. The sight of this makes her smile, but only as much as her heart would let her.

It's clear that the death of her father still affects her. For her entire life, she had known her father to be a good man. He loved her and she loved him. When Daelin arrived at Theramore and reignited by the Human-Orc war due to old grudges, it was clear that Jaina had to deal with the feeling of being against her own father. She had given the Horde her permission to slay her father in order to keep the peace between the Humans and the Orcs. It hurt her to approve such an action, and it devastated her when she saw his dead body.

She has never told anyone, but she had decided to perform the deed herself before. She arrived at the citadel, without his awareness, with her staff in hand, ready to burn him. However, she thought twice before she could unleash her fury. Could she really bring herself to murder her own father? She knew that bringing his life to an end was the only way to protect the pact between the Alliance and the Horde, but no matter how many she has slain before, she did not have the strength to slay her own father. She turned away and chose to let the Orcs do away with the Admiral for her.

Her father's death was only one reason for her despair.

She has just recently learned of Arthas slaying his own father, King Terenas, and aiding the Undead to conquer Lordaeron, she could not stop thinking about it. She has been concerned about him after she saw the destruction he has caused to Stratholme, but having learned about what he has become after his trip to Northrend, she wishes she can just forget about him. Yet, she couldn't. For as long as she can remember, she has harbored feelings for the young prince. She cares very deeply for him and always treats him with kindness. She has been waiting for the day when he will kneel down in front of her with a ring in hand.

She can barely sleep at night knowing that the man she loved has become a harbinger of death. She sheds a tear every time she so much as thinks about him. She keeps herself isolated from her own people to cope with the pain in peace. When she was among her people, she was as calm and collected as the people know her, but it was a facade to hide her pain.

Jaina's contemplation was interrupted by a knock on the door. She answers the door and sees a footman standing by.

"Milady, the dwarves and the elves are waiting for you at the citadel," he said.

"Why?" asked Jaina, confused.

"The meeting," answered the footman.

"Oh, right. I forgot," said Jaina. "I'll be right there."

Jaina puts on her cloak and exits the palace, walking towards the citadel. She arrives at the boardroom only to see the elves and the dwarves arguing about something. The sight of the young sorceress forced them to cease their bickering. Jaina takes off her hood and sits down.

The Alliance was divided into three races - Humans, Elves, and Dwarves. Despite Jaina's protests and lectures about equality, the Alliance agreed to have one member represent each race whenever a meeting should take place. Representing the humans is the lieutenant knight of the Royal Navy who once served Jaina's father. An ambassador from Quel'Thalas represents the elves. As for the dwarves, speaking on their behalf is the Mortar Team who Arthas and Jaina met in Brill. The brown-bearded dwarf is named "TNT" and the old, white-bearded dwarf is named "Dynamite." How they earned such names was never known.

"Hello, your highness." Dynamite greeted Jaina.

Jaina chuckled. "I told you, Dynamite. You can call me Jaina, or 'miss,' or 'milady.' I never really felt like a princess."

"But you are a princess," said Dynamite.

"Be quiet, shorty," said TNT, smacking Dynamite behind the head.

"Remind me why a Mortar Team is in this meeting," complained the ambassador.

Jaina spoke. "Someone needs to represent the Dwarves. Since Magni Bronzebeard refused to join us on the exodus, the dwarves had to vote for a representative. The two fine gentleman here clearly won the vote."

TNT and Dynamite were currently slapping each other in the face back and forth, causing Jaina to cover her face in embarrassment, regretting what she called them.

"Fine gentlemen indeed," said the lieutenant with sarcasm.

"Enough," interrupted Jaina. "We are not here to quarrel. We are here to discuss today's issue."

Jaina distributes a scroll to each representative. They read the scrolls from top to bottom. However, the elf ambassador spoke up before he finished reading.

"This is madness, milady," he started. "You want to send our forces back to Lordaeron?"

"Besides the Bronzebeard family, there are still other innocent people trapped in those lands," said Jaina. "If we ignore them, we condemn them to death. I cannot bring myself to do such a thing."

"But the Undead control Lordaeron," said the lieutenant. "What you're planning here is a suicide mission."

"I am aware of that, lieutenant," said Jaina. "I know returning to Lordaeron means risking the lives on my men, but I can't rest letting innocent people suffer and die."

"But what if the Undead have slaughtered all the remaining humans? Our return will be for nothing," said the ambassador.

"I refuse to believe that," said Jaina.

"You're our leader," said TNT. "You can order us to equip for battle and we will obey."

"True, but I knew that the best way I can initiate this mission is by first seeing if we all agree to this," said Jaina. She stands up and says, "Lordaeron may be lost, but that doesn't we have to leave our people to die. This purpose of this journey is to save every last one of us. It's risky, but it's the right thing to do. I am not forcing you to agree to this mission. I am merely asking if you agree."

When no one replied, Jaina sighs.

"I will be outside for some alone time. I'll be back in five minutes. When I return, I expect you express your final thought in this matter," she said before departing the room.

...

When Jaina returned to the boardroom, she asked the representatives for their stand on the matter. TNT and Dynamite supported the plan, while the ambassador and the lieutenant disagreed. Since it was a tie, Jaina suggested they discussed this matter another time.

She returns to her castle and locks herself in her room. She returned to staring at the clouds from her balcony. All she wanted was to do was save the remaining people still trapped in Lordaeron, but the humans and elves are clearly too worried of their survival to risk a rescue mission. The dwarves, being the stubborn beings they are, would follow Jaina to Lordaeron and battle the Undead to save the innocent, but it's clearly not going to happen anytime soon. Jaina can only hope that the remaining humanity left in Lordaeron is safe.

Durotar

In the Western parts of Kalimdor is the new home of the Horde, which they called Durotar, in honor of Thrall's father, Durotan. After the defeat of the Burning Legion, the Night Elves allowed the Orcs to settle down in their land as a reward for assisting them in defeating Archimonde and the Burning Legion. Completion of the village was delayed by the arrival of Admiral Proudmoore, but after his death, the Orcs proceed with the finishing touches on Durotar. One of them is a statue of Grom Hellscream. Thrall ordered for it to be built in honor of the Orc who saved the Horde from the Burning Legion's grasp.

The Orcs are comfortable in their new home. Now that they no longer have to shield themselves from humans, they are free to live in peace. They hunt for food, battle Centaurs and Quillboars once in a while, and spend the nights partying. The Tauren chieftain Cairne and his son, Baine, even join in on the fun as they find the Horde a pleasant company.

Thrall had mixed feelings about the life of the Orcs the past year. It comforts him that they're living in peace, but he still mourns for Grom. Grom may have died a hero, but Thrall missed him very. Still, he would join his fellow Orcs in their nightly festivities to take his mind off the negative thoughts.

Today, at the rise of sunlight, Thrall was training his youngest warriors. They had been in the field before, but they have yet to reach their full potential. Thrall turns away from his warriors and looks at young Baine, practicing with a wooden axe. Cairne asked Thrall to train Baine to be a warrior because he admires the warchief's ways on the battlefield. Baine has learned the basics from his father, but the Tauren Warchief wanted him to learn from a true battlefield master like Thrall.

"Easy, Baine," said Thrall to the young Tauren. "If you keep swinging like that, you leave open spots for your enemy to strike."

"Sorry," apologized Baine.

"Don't worry, young one," said Thrall. "Your father trusted me to mold you into a warrior and I do not intend to disappoint him."

"I am honored to learn from you, master Thrall," said Baine. "But where's Rexxar? I wanna learn from him too. I saw how he fought when he saved me."

"I'm afraid Rexxar isn't here," said Thrall. "He prefers to wander alone with his animal companion, but maybe one day I can ask him to teach you."

"Warchief!" a Grunt called out.

Thrall turns around and sees the Grunt running towards him, clearly distressed.

"Yes, warrior?" replied Thrall.

"One of our hunting parties have gone missing," reported the Grunt.

"How can you be sure?" asked Thrall.

"Some of our warriors found our weapons lying in the sand, along with some blood," answered the Grunt. "Shall we send a search party after them?"

"We shall," replied Thrall. "But first, we must contact an old friend for help."

"How can we even find Rexxar?" asked the Grunt, knowing who the warchief is talking about.

"Nazgrel can track him down," said Thrall. "Tell him to bring a few warriors and find Rexxar."

"Yes, warchief," responded the Grunt.

Thrall turns his attention back to the young Tauren. "Go back to your father, Baine. If our situation is dire, I prefer you to be safe with your father."

"But I can help you fight," said Baine.

"You're still a child, I'm afraid," said Thrall. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance one day."

Thrall asks for a nearby Grunt to escort Baine back to Bloodhoof camp, back to his father.

...

Rexxar, meanwhile, continue to wander through Kalimdor on his own with his friend, Misha. They remain as close as ever and protect each other whenever danger closes in. They do miss Thrall and his company, but they prefer to wander the desert together. They did, however, promise Thrall that they will come to his aid should he ask for them.

As they wandered through the barrens, they noticed something amiss. Near the lake, they found a few weapons surrounded with blood.

"These are the Horde's weapons," said Rexxar. "I must inform Thrall."

Before Rexxar and Misha can start walking to Durotar, Nazgrel and his fellow Raiders have already arrived. Misha and the raider's wolves started growling at each other, but Rexxar stood in between them before they can begin fighting.

"Rexxar, the warchief seeks an audience with you," said Nazgrel. "I see you've discovered the weapons."

"I fear something has happened to his warriors," said Rexxar. "Lead the way."

...

Back in Durotar, Rexxar and Misha met with Thrall at Bloodhoof Camp, where he is seeking the help of Bovan Windtotem. The Spirit Walker was currently looking into the mystical pool, looking for the missing orcs.

"Greetings, warchief," greeted Rexxar.

"It is good to see you, Rexxar," greeted Thrall. "I hope we are not a bother."

"Not at all, warchief," said Rexxar. "Misha and I are just going about our usual business. We are more than honored to assist you whenever you need us."

"I have found them," said Bovan.

Thrall and Rexxar look into the mystic pool. They can see the wounded Orcs tied up in a red barren realm, surrounded by Naga warriors and red-skinned Orcs. This particular realm looked familiar to Thrall.

"It's Draenor. Our old home," he said. "Or at least what's left of it."

"Why do those Orcs look different?" asked Rexxar, referring to the red-skinned Orcs.

"They are the Fel Orcs," answered Thrall. "The Fel runs in their veins. They may not be magical, but they're certainly just as fierce as we are."

"I seem to recall being told that Draenor was a forsaken land," said Rexxar. "How is it possible that it's inhabited?"

"I do not know," said Thrall. "But we have to get to the bottom of this. The only problem is that there is no way back to our old home."

"This may sound like a risky plan of mine, warchief, but maybe it'll help if we let the monsters come to us," suggested Rexxar.

"It sounds like our best option," replied Thrall, agreeing. "We shall inform the rest of the Horde immediately. We must save our brethren."

Ashenvale

Tyrande Whisperwind was resting peacefully in the woods, letting the tranquility of nature sooth her spirit. She has not seen battle for over a year and she would like nothing more than to leave it that way. However, she awoken as soon as she sensed something distressing. She grabs her arrows and her bow, then hops on her tiger. They ride off and stop at the edge of a cliff. Tyrande stood there for a long time. She concentrates on the magic she sensed. It felt like darkness.

"The Burning Legion was destroyed. Yet, why does the magic I sense feel the same as our fallen foes?" she wondered.

Tyrande sends an Owl scout out to the forests. As the owl hovered across Ashenvale, it saw the cause of Tyrande's distress. Fel Orcs were hiding in the shadows, dragging unconscious Orcs from the Horde. A portal opens and they enter, bringing their captives with them. Seeing what the owl can see, Tyrande was in shock at what she has seen.

"Those Orcs reek of the Fel," she said. "Is it possible the Legion is rising from the ashes of their fallen master? I must see Furion Stormrage immediately."

Tyrande races to Moonglade Isle, where Malfurion Stormrage is overseeing the healing of Kalimdor. She encounters a few vile Murlocs along the way, but she was able to handle them on her own, slaying every single last one that stood in her way. When she finally arrived at Moonglade, she lays her eyes on Malfurion, clearly filled with joy to see him. At first sight of Tyrande, the druid is also filled with joy.

"Tyrande, my love, it's good to see you," he greeted.

"Ishnu-alah, Furion," greeted Tyrande. "I wish we can witness the healing of our lands together, but I have come with grim news."

"What troubles you, my love?" asked Malfurion.

"Orcs. Orcs tainted with the Fel," answered Tyrande. "They have taken some warriors of the Horde hostage and escaped through a portal."

"Very few can control the Fel nowadays," said Malfurion. "Whoever is behind this must be powerful. We must see the warchief Thrall and inform him."

"The Horde were our allies in the Battle of Hyjal. It is only fitting that we help them in their time of need," said Tyrande, agreeing.

Before Tyrande and Malfurion can depart, they were approached by Shandris Feathermoon, Tyrande's protege.

"Priestess Tyrande, one of our outposts are under attack by the Naga and the Orcs!" exclaimed Shandris. "But these Orcs appear different. They're redskins, not greenskins."

"I am aware of who they are, Shandris," said Tyrande. "Lead us."

...

By the time Tyrande, Malfurion, and Shandris arrived at the outpost, the battle was still ongoing. Naga, Orc, and Night Elves are being slain back and forth. To aid them in the battle, Malfurion summons Treants and commands them to battle. Tyrande gets off her tiger and started shooting arrows at the enemies. Her aim was true as she fails to miss her targets. One Naga warrior tried to sneak up from behind, but Tyrande sensed it coming. She grabs an arrow, turns around quickly, and stabs the Naga in the heart, killing it.

Malfurion was hurling magic blasts at the invaders with his staff. With the help of the Treants, he was able to fend off anyone coming towards him. Shandris was having trouble striking the Naga with her arrows. They were agile. One Naga engages her in melee combat. Shandris is wounded in the battle, but before the Naga can finish her, the creature was struck from behind by a fire arrow, courtesy of Tyrande. She approaches her student and helps her stand.

"You are wounded," said Tyrande.

"Blood must be sacrificed if we are to win this battle," said Shandris.

"I cannot allow you to continue," said Tyrande. "Stay out of sight and find a Moon Well."

Shandris did not argue with her mentor and rushes towards the nearest Moon Well to heal her wound. A Huntress was kind enough to shield her from attack. The number of Fel Orcs and Naga begin to dwindle. They began to retreat into a portal. Tyrande, fortunately, manages to strike a Myrmidon with her arrow just as the portal closes. The myrmidon still lives. It was only wounded.

Tyrande approaches the Myrmidon and forces it to face her.

"Speak, creature! Where did your forces come from?" she demanded.

"You are not getting anything out of me," said the Myrmidon.

"If you do not speak, then I will ensure you never speak again," threatened Tyrande.

"Kill me if you must. It doesn't matter. I am only one of many," said Myrmidon.

Before Tyrande can lose her temper, Malfurion interferes.

"Calm down, my love," said Malfurion. "We will get answers out of this one in time. Right now, we must rest and tend to our wounded."

"What shall we do with the Naga?" asked Shandris.

Malfurion entangles the myrmidon in roots, keeping it from leaving.

"Illidan," muttered Tyrande.

"What is that, my love?" asked Malfuion as he didn't hear her clearly.

"The Naga serve Illidan. He must be behind this attack," guessed Tyrande. "And I once thought he still had a heart."

"He promised never to threaten my people again," said Malfurion in his brother's defense.

"Why else would the Naga be here? If they were here to seek revenge on their own, then where is Lady Vashj?" replied Tyrande.

"We must trust time to reveal all," said Malfurion. "Please, Tyrande, rest."

The Outland

Dreanor was once the world of the Orcs, but when Ner'Zhul tried to send the Orcs to Azeroth through multiple portals, he caused the destruction of the lands, leaving only a forsaken world called The Outland. The lands now belong to Illidan Stormrage and his forces after driving Maiev Shadowsong and the Night Elves out and defeating the Pit Lord Magtheridon.

Illidan had hoped to use the Outland as a hiding place from Kil'jaeden's wrath after he failed to destroy the Frozen Throne for him. When Kil'jaeden eventually found him, Illidan and his forces attacked Northrend to destroy the Lich King. They failed. Illidan was badly wounded from his battle with Arthas. He recovered in time, but Kil'jaeden was not happy of his failure. Thanks to Prince Kael'Thas, Kil'jaeden decided to give Illidan another chance. Now that Arthas has become one with the Lich King and bolstered his forces with the addition of Anub'arak, Illidan knew he had to step up his game. His first plan was to abduct the Orcs from Kalimdor and turn them into Fel Orcs using the Outland's corruption.

As Illidan awaits for his forces to return with the latest catch, he is visited by the demon lord, Kil'jaeden.

"You better not fail me this time, Illidan," said Kil'jaeden with a threatening tone. "If you fail me again, I will not hesitate to make you suffer."

"As the humans say, 'Third time's the charm,'" replied Illidan, feeling confident.

"Do not amuse yourself at a time like this, Illidan!" shouted Kil'jaeden. "Now that Arthas has donned the helmet of the Lich King, he is more powerful than ever. It would be wise not to underestimate him."

"I am not someone to underestimate either," said Illidan. "When I thrust my blade into his skin, he will be no more."

"The Lich King cannot be defeated by a sword," said Kil'jaeden.

"Then how shall I defeat him?" asked Illidan.

"The Lich King can only be destroyed by the runeblade he wields, Frostmourne," said Kil'jaeden. "However, the blade can only destroy him if it absorbs all the magic of the Icecrown citadel. Once you do so, you can destroy him. Once the Lich King is destroyed, I will raise the Burning Legion from the ashes."

"It shall be done, master," said Illidan.

Prince Kael'Thas approaches the Demon Hunter with news. "Master, our forces have successfully captured one of the Horde's hunting parties. We shall begin with the mutation immediately."

"See to it, Kael," ordered Illidan. "The Lich King has a vast army under his command. We need to match or even outnumber his forces so I can reach the Frozen Throne and slay him."

Lady Vashj then approaches Illidan. "My lord, our scouts sent to Ashenvale have returned and in few numbers."

"Those Night Elves are a strong force," said Illidan. "Tyrande and my brother will have my head if they ever find me."

"Do not fail me again, Illidan!" yelled Kil'jaeden before disappearing.

"We must be swift," said Illidan to Kael'Thas and Vashj. "Tonight, we shall attack Durotar and capture their leaders. They will prove to be fine additions to our cause."

"But what about the Humans?" wondered Vashj. "They are allies of the Horde. Surely, they will intervene."

"Those frail humans do not worry me," said Illidan. "Nor does it matter. Strengthening our forces must be our focus for now. Kil'jaeden has little patience and we certainly do not want to be on the receiving end of his power. Prepare our forces for the attack."

"As you wish, my lord," replied Vashj.

"As you command, master," replied Kael'Thas.

Illidan's lieutenants depart to prepare Illidan's troops for the upcoming invasion of Durotar. Illidan just stands staring at the endless void below the edge of the rock he stands on. Kil'jaeden is the only entity in the world that strikes fear into him and he does not want to fail him a third time. Now that Tyrande and Malfurion have seen his forces, he knows he will have more trouble to deal with.

Lordaeron

In the Eastern lands of Lordaeron, life was almost nonexistent. Thanks to Arthas, the Undead rule the lands. Kel'Thuzad was left in charge of Lordaeron until Arthas returns from Northrend, but Sylvanas Windrunner managed to overthrow him. After killing the dreadlords Detheroc and Balnazzar, Sylvanas claims Lordaeron as her own. Kel'Thuzad has gone into hiding with the remaining forces still loyal to the Death Knight. Sylvanas relishes in her victory while her armies track down Kel'Thuzad. Whether he is to be slain or taken prisoner remains undecided.

Another day has arrived in the light-forsaken lands. While Varimathras was tasked with overseeing the search for Kel'Thuzad, Sylvanas returns to Quel'Thalas. It pains her to visit her destroyed home, especially since it was where she was slain and transformed into an undead monstrosity. For reasons unknown even to herself, she chose to visit the former home of the elves.

"This place makes me sick to my stomach," she says to herself. "But it was once my home."

To her chagrin, Gnolls have built their homes in Quel'Thalas. Since fear has never been a word in her dictionary, Sylvanas engages the Gnolls. Three gnolls attack her at the same time, but she did not back down. She immediately fires three arrows. One each hit a gnoll, killing them instantly. More gnolls came. Despite being outnumbered 30 to 1, she continues her battle.

"You critters will regret facing me," she said.

Sylvanas fires ice-tipped arrows at the gnolls. Those who were struck felt their body freeze until they die of a frozen heart. Gnoll poachers started firing their own arrows at Sylvanas, so she had to take cover by hiding behind one of the Gnoll's houses. After some careful thinking, she emerges and fires three arrows simultaneously, killing the poachers instantly.

"I may be outnumbered, but I'm not helpless," she said.

She rushes towards the gnolls and continues her relentless attack. She kept on firing her arrows, killing any gnoll she manages to hit. She was down to just one arrow and there were eleven gnolls left. She evades their sight and hides behind a tree to plan her attack.

"Eight brutes with flails. Three archers," she thought out loud. "I only have two arrows. I guess it's time I stop fighting this on my own."

Sylvanas sneaks up on a lone gnoll. When the gnoll caught her scent and turned around, he found himself staring into her glowing eyes. The gnoll was permanently under Sylanvas' control. She orders him to attack. The gnoll started bashing his brethren. The archers from the distance were occupied. Sylvanas took this opportunity. She knew the gnolls would catch her scent if she walks closer, so instead, she takes out one of her arrows and fires. The arrow hits a poacher straight in the skull. Sylvanas dashes forwards, takes the arrow out of the gnoll's head, and stabs the other poachers in the blink of an eye.

She turns her attention back to the gnoll still under her control. He was outnumbered and was, therefore, cornered. Sylvannas remembers that the poachers carry arrows so she takes them. She enchants the arrows and aims at the gnolls. She hits all seven of them with perfect accuracy. The spell on the arrows causes the skeletons of the gnolls to come to life, becoming Sylvanas' new skeleton warriors.

She tells them, "Go to the capital. Varimathras will see to it that you're armed for battle. We have a lich to hunt down."

As the skeleton departed, Sylvanas approaches the last gnoll.

"You fought well, but I'm afraid I have no use for you now."

Sylvanas takes out her last arrow, aims at the gnoll, and fires, killing the gnoll. She takes a moment to look at all the dead bodies around her. A good slaughter always satisfies her. She continues her walk through Quel'Thalas. She arrives at the shattered building that was once her house, destroyed by the Undead when they invaded Quel'Thalas.

As she walked through the rubble, she begins to think of her family. She still feels guilty for not being able to save them from the Undead. Arrogant she was, but she was determined to save Quel'Thalas, even at the risk of her own life. She was robbed of dying a hero and became an agent of death, thanks to the Death Knight named Arthas.

Her fists tensed at the thought of the fallen prince. "I swear on my people's name, I will have my vengeance on you, Arthas. I will never stop hunting you. I will never stop until you have suffered like I've suffered. I shall wait for the day we meet again."

Suddenly, a portal opens behind Sylvanas. Coming out of the portal is an acolyte.

"My apologies, milady, but Varimathras insists you return immediately," he said.

"Unless he's found Kel'Thuzad, I have no interest in abandoning my private business," said Sylvanas.

"The dreadlord Mephistroth has sent his army towards the Capital. Varimathras says you would enjoy spilling your enemies' blood yourself," said the acolyte.

"Fine," replied Sylvanas.

Sylvanas follows the acolyte through the portal.

Northrend

Arthas, now one with the Lich King, sits on the Frozen Throne, holding the cursed runeblade, Frostmourne, in his hand. It has been a year since he has donned the helmet of the Lich King, merging their souls as one. Arthas is losing himself even more to the influence of the Lich King, but he doesn't care. Now colder than before, Arthas is more than willing to fulfill his new desire of conquering all of Azeroth.

He has spent the entire year carefully conjuring a scheme to do so. With formidable foes like the Horde, the Alliance, and the Night Elves, Arthas knows he has to do more than just send a large force at his enemies. With the threat of Kil'jaeden still present, Arthas is aware that his quest for domination will not be easily accomplished.

"What must I do?" he wonders. "I may be all-powerful now, but my enemies have proven themselves more dangerous by destroying Archimonde. This war cannot be won by force. It cannot be won by power. It can only be won by using the mind."

Arthas gets off the throne and stares down at all of Northrend. His forces continue to guard Icecrown should Illidan and his forces return. Arthas' mind turns to his home, Lordaeron. He has no received a word from Kel'Thuzad since he left. He feels that something is not right. He descends from the peak of Icecrown and seeks his new ally, Anu'barak.

"What is your wish, my king?" asked the Crypt Lord.

"Send our best warriors to Lordaeron," ordered Arthas. "Kel'Thuzad has not reported. Something is wrong."

"Shall I lead the assault?" asked the Crypt Lord.

"No," responded Arthas. "You will stay here and guard the Frozen Throne. Just see to it that our forces are armed to the teeth."

"As you wish, my king," replied the Crypt Lord, bowing.

As Anu'barak prepares the Scourge for their trip back to Lordaeron, Arthas watches from the distance. He can only think of why his loyal servant hasn't been heard of for a long time. His best guess is the dreadlords - Varimathras, Detheroc, and Balnazzar - since they tried to overthrow him, but he also has his mind on another name. That name is Sylvanas Windrunner. If he recalls correctly, the former ranger-general of Quel'Thalas wants vengeance and maybe overthrowing Kel'Thuzad is the first step in accomplishing it.

No matter what comes in his way, Arthas will show no fear and desecrate anyone who dares interferes with his plans.

That's about it for the first chapter. Remember, this is only the beginning. There's more to a story than how it begins.

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